And the Heart Has Room to Grow
by storybook elf
Summary: This is the story of a romance in Rivendell, between Mirthanna, the daughter of diplomats, and a certain blonde elf who needs to be loosened up a bit. Of course, in romance, there are always obstacles, some more important, and challenging, than others.
1. Her Beauty

**General disclaimer: **Come on Tolkien's fan base, you all know who wrote this! I won't even _attempt_ to compare myself to you know who.

(Just to reiterate, I don't own it).

I would like to welcome you to my story. Be advised, it's not a Legomance, and summaries can be deceiving. Be kind, be sweet, but be honest. I truly want your criticism, unless it's particularly nasty. My pet peeve is those "it sux!" reviewers, both because they misspell sucks and because they don't say why.

* * *

**Her Beauty**

"Lord Elrond, you cannot honestly expect me to do this," came the exasperated cry from Glorfindel. He would only call his friend lord when he was particularly angry, just to remind himself that in _this_ lifetime, Elrond was his elder, and losing his temper would not do either of them any good.

"Have patience, Glorfindel," Elrond said quietly, "They asked for her to be trained. They are important people, and her parents are friends of mine. I told them that I would request it of you."

"But surely you did not think I would agree!" Glorfindel cried, "It seems like a babysitting job to me," he stopped briefly, to calm down, "I will not watch some spoiled child while her parents are doing–whatever they please!"

"You surely know that this is not the case." Elrond replied, "You will do this anyway, because I am asking you to, and you will do it happily, or at least without _audible_ complaint."

* * *

Mirthanna gazed at her surroundings and barely noticed her horse being led away as she stepped forward. This was Rivendell, she thought to herself, a nice place. The sooner they could leave, the better.

Lord Elrond appeared at the stairs, in front of what Mirthanna assumed was the main entrance. By his side was a gloomy looking guard, and Mirthana decided he was probably her teacher. He wasn't bad looking, she told herself, probably better looking when he was smiling.

Spoiled child, Glorfindel was thinking, but per his orders, he kept it to himself.. If she was to learn archery, he supposed he would just teach it to her and move on.

Mirthanna's parents bowed, and she followed suit, watching her long hair fall in front of her shoulders. She sighed audibly, knowing it would be impossible to gather it up again. It was thick and dark, and when she bowed, it brushed the ground in front of her feet. 

As they stood up straight, her hazel eyes met Glorfindel's blue ones. His were dull, bored, but hers sparkled. A nod from her father told her she was free to move about the courtyard until she was needed. Mirthanna swept her hair behind her shoulders and headed off.

Glorfindel turned to go back inside when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, startled to see Mirthanna with and outstretched hand. He took hers and she shook his.

"Mae govannen, hir nín, well met, my lord," she said, with a rich voice that trilled her r's, which suited her particularly well. "Harthon erin hè cin rado mae, I hope this day finds you well."

"Hich sui mae, you as well," Glorfindel replied dully. "Please, would you mind if we dispensed with formality?"

"Bless Eru!" Mirthanna dropped her hand and shrugged her shoulders briefly. Her hands went to rub her cheeks. "I was sure I might sprain something, holding that smile for so long!" She paused, "My name is Mirthanna, if you'd like to know."

"I am Glorfindel," he said, "I am going to be your archery teacher, or trainer, if you'd prefer."

"Mirthanna!" Her mother was calling her from across the courtyard. She sighed.

"I'm sure if they want me, they want you too, you know, for formalities."

"Lady Mirthdanna," said Elrond, "If you would please follow me to the field, you may show Lord Glorfindel the skills you have already acquired."

"Of course, my lord," Mirthanna replied, and Glorfindel had noticed her flawless transformation back to society politeness. "My lord?" she questioned in Glorfindel's direction, awaiting his following. He was staring.

In the archery field, one of Mirthanna's ladies-in-waiting handed her a bow, already strung, and presented her with a quiver. Both were of Dol Amroth make, including the arrows in the quiver. Mirthanna took them and thanked her ladies, setting herself in front of a target. Then she shot. Her shot wasn't bad, he decided, she had good form, however, her arrow missed landing on the outermost ring of the target. Glorfindel took notice and suggested they move back indoors.

Lord Elrond and Mirthanna's parents talked through dinner. Lord Elrond had wished to know why they had come so far north just to have the skills of their daughter improved upon.

"Aside from the diplomatic business?" Orathan, her father, had chuckled.

"Well," Melethril, her mother, had replied, "She can only learn so much from her brother." Lastir stood off to the side, politely conversing with a young woman and her brother. Mirthanna, however, stood in front of the buffet tables, picking at dishes and looking longingly at others.

"The food doesn't bite back." Mirthanna jumped. She hadn't noticed Glorfindel's presence.

"I know that." She wrinkled her nose, then remembered her ladies had instructed her not to do that, and stopped. "But ladies-in-waiting do."

"Let me assure you I will be harsher," Glorfindel insisted, "Eat! I will _not_ have you fainting on my training field."

Mirthanna looked horrified. "I'll have you know I have never fainted in my life," she told him firmly, "And I do not intend to start on your training field."

"If that's your last word on the matter, Mirthanna." She made a face.

"Please, Lady– or even Anna– will do _just_ fine."

Glorfindel laughed at her insistence. "Yes, about the name, I was simply wondering–"

"Why my parents named me the gift of wine?" she asked him sarcastically. "Take a wild guess."

"Well I suppose–"

"_I_ suppose that they _meant_ to call me a mistake." Mirthanna did not look the least bit bitter. "I _suppose_ that one son was enough for them. Don't look like that. It's perfectly logical fact." Glorfindel's look was quite amusing. "Sorry, my lord." She glanced back at him and left, but not before snatching his full plate from his hands.

Back at the high table, Elrond stood to announce the start of that night's dancing. The songs began, and out of the corner of his eye, Glorfindel noticed Mirthanna fidgeting in a most un-ladylike manner.

Mirthanna continued to bounce around. She realized her archery trainer had seen her, but she didn't care. There was dancing in Rivendell! Dancing! Her father and her brother had traveled almost everywhere, and they had told her that Rivendell's elves were stuffy and boring. What did they know, anyway?

Mirthanna continued to be excited until she realized the truth. No one was going to ask her to dance. She was just some noble's daughter, a visitor. There would be now point in getting acquainted with her. For all they knew, she'd be gone the next day. Maybe in a few weeks, she would be danced with, but certainly not tonight.

She supposed she had known this, but hoped her appearances would make up for it. Mirthanna was very pretty. She knew thinking this made her seem vain, but hadn't she the right to be vain? She had tan skin, and dark brown hair with a few sun lightened streaks. Her long brown lashes covered deep haze eyes, tinted with any color one normally expected to see. Her nose was rather plain, save for a small bump on the bridge. She hadn't broken it once, she had just been born that way, but her father said it gave character, so she didn't mind. Mirthanna's lips were set in a line now that she had realized she wouldn't be danced with, but even that could not hide the urge that they so often had, which was to smile.

But of course, being lovely could have been intimidating. Mirthanna sighed and leaned back, arms folded across her body, tightly pulled to several inches smaller by a corset, which was high fashion among the mortal women back home in Dol Amroth, and Mirthanna's family had to set the example, so she wore one too. Under her skirts, she crossed her legs on the chair, hidden by her skirts, and sat that way for the rest of the night.


	2. Her Mail

**Her Mail**

For a few days, there was no training, only talk of it. There was apparently more of it to take place than Glorfindel had originally agreed to. Mirthanna was to be trained with a sword as well as with daggers. Glorfindel had sighed, but then agreed, appearing to be reluctant. He would have been angry, but he and Mirthanna had found that they got along quite well. They were almost friends, one would have said.

Glorfindel had relayed the news of the additions to their practices to Mirthanna. She groaned and complained, and Glorfindel found himself wishing he had simply not told her at all. The training was set to begin the next morning, and so on the appointed day GLorfindel appeared at Mirthanna's door. He knocked.

"Come in!"

Glorfindel let himself into Mirthanna's quarters. He looked at her, then suddenlt dropped his eyes and turned. Mirthanna frowned.

"Is there a problem, my lord?"

Glorfindel's ears were turning red. "Lady, you-you're not wearing anything!" he blurted out, turning, but keeping his eyes off of her.

Mirthanna glanced at her scant attire. She had heard him knock while taking a bath and had wrapped a short white towel around herself. "I am so!"

Glorfindel found himself looking at her legs. "Not much..." he replied.

"Fine then," she said, "If it bothers you that much, turn around! Lastir was right, you Rivendell-ers are an uptight lot."

Glorfindel turned back around. "We are not, but we're not wood-elves either." Wood-elves were the freest in their ways, absolutely shameless in every sense of the word. Not that it was something to be looked down upon, but elves of different regions tended to be just that- different.

"Nor are we," Mirthanna agreed, "But clothes-less is how Eru made us, and there should be very little shame in that."

"Please...Lady...Anna- would you mind just putting on some clothes?"

They took her bow and quiver full of arrows, and, in the archery field, Glorfindel inspected them and pronounced them "in good, working order." Mirthanna took them back and they got to work. "Shoot for me one more time before we really star," Glorfindel insdtructed. And so she did. This time, however, her shot missted the target center by merely a few inches. Glorfindel looked shocked. "Have you been practicing?" he inquired. Mirthanna shook her head.

"Not recently," she told him. Glorfindel looked puzzled.

"How could your shot have improved so much without practice?" Glorfindel asked.

Mirthanna grinned. "Well, you'd shoot much better as well if the life weren't being squeezed out of you for most of the time- oh for Elbereth's sake, Glorfindel!" she cried, he was beginning to go red again, "Eru forbid I was talking about my underclothes! I mean a corset...stuffy Rivendell elves," she mumbled, and took another shot.

"A what?" Glorfindel asked.

"A corset," she repeated. Glorfindel shook his head, "You know," Mirthanna made a motion as though her body were being squeezed, "To make us look skinnier."

"Lady, I have no clue as to what you're talking about."

"Haven't you ever taken off a lady's clothes?" Mirthanna asked with a smile, still shooting innocently at the target.

The blush returned. "Such things are hardly appropriate," he scolded, unable tohold back his grin for too long, "And hardly true as well."

"Good for you," Mirthanna grinned, "Talking like this! You're breaking out of these Rivendell confines. Now tell me," she said as she chose a few more arrows, "Any one of significance?"

Glorfindel thought for a moment. "No," he said decidedly, "Well, Gil-Galad--"

"I asked about you," Mirthanna interrupted, wondering why Glorfindel was bringing history into this, "Not some old dead king. Besides, that's got nothingn to do with--"

"Then I suppose you haven't been told?"

"Told what?"

"Gil-Galad, Erenion, I am his reincarnation." Mirthanna could not imagine how he was able to share that information so incredibly matter-of-factly.

"Re-what? _Erenion Gil-Galad's--_"

"Reincarnation." Glorfindel repeated.

"So you share his soul?"

Glorfindel sighed, wondering when the questions would end. "We can talk _after_ practice, lady."

"Fine," she replied, "But I want the whole story, don't leave anything out at all."

"Agreed."

The training continued. They finished archery and Glorfindel decided to test her knifework. She knew the fundamentals, Glorfindel told her, but her skills need a lot-- a _lot_-- of work. Particularly in the area of control.

"I'm really, really, so, _so_, sorry," Mirthanna said again. The healer had clicked her tongue at Glorfindel and left him with a jar of ointment and a linen bandage with orders to "Clean up and have a good meal, I can tell it's been a long day.

"Lady, no matter how many times you say it, you will get the same reply. It's alright," Glorfindel responded, "This is what I'm spposed to be training you to do. Perhaps not by accident, but it is the point nevertheless."

They took their lunch in the kitchens and headed back outside. Walking and talking, Mirthanna finally remembered something. "So you share a soul the soul of Erenion Gil-Galad?" ahe asked, and Glorfindel sighed again.

"I prefer not to put it that way, lady," he said with a frown, "People tend to forget that we aren't two different people. I am the same as he is, I don't just share his sould, I _am_ Gil-Galad. I do not argue with him in my head, we are simply one and the same. It even bothers me to talk about myself and my past name as 'we,' but sometimes that is the only way people understand."

Mirthanna nodded. "But--" she began, and proceeded to ask a stream of questions.

By the time they had walked around the courtyard several times, it was beginning to get dark. They did not know they had reached the back entrance to Mirthanna's quarters until one of her ladies came running out.

"Lady!" she cried, "You've gotten a letter from back home." She turned to Glorfindel, curtseying, "My apologies, my lord."

Glorfindel responded with a slight bow. "It's all right, lady." Mirthanna's lady in waiting blushed fiercely to her ears.

"If you'll excuse me," Mirthanna said, side-stepping her blushing maid, "I have to go open my letter."

The lady suddenly snapped to attention. "No you don't, my lady! Dinner's in but half an hour and that letter will be waiting when you come back!" The lady took Mirthanna by the wrist and tugged her along.

"Aenien!" Mirthanna protested, her gathered hair in a loosening knot shook dangerously. She sighed, looking back at Glorfindel, "Corset time."

Aenien looked shocked, but Glorfindel smiled. "Make sure she's on time for dinner, Aenien." The woman began to blush again.

"For Eru's sake!" Mirthanna attempted to bring her maid back to the present. Aenien began to pull at her arm again. "Traitor!" she called to Glorfindel's retreating back. There was time before dinner. Extra tight lacings, she thought, and gulped.

Glorfindel looked Mirthanna's way during dinner and sighed. She was still fidgeting like she had been on her first night in Rivendell. She was beginning to make him motion sick. He walked over to her and put his hands firmly on her shoulders.

"Stop," he ordered, and pressed down.

"Ouch," she winced, and then, "I can't"

"What? Will no one dance with the lady of Dol Amroth?"

Mirthanna laughed quietly, "That is currently the least of my worries! I want to open my letter!"

"I see," said Glorfindel, and he smiled. "Good. For a moment I thought I woiuld have to ask you to dance."

"Her expression changed. "And what's so terrible about that? I'll have you know I am a wonderful dancer," she informed him.

"I have no doubts that you are, lady, but it's not you that I have the problem with," Glorfindel replied.

"Well then what do you have against dancing?" she questioned, almost as though he were insulting her personally, "A horrible past of stepped on toes?"

"I am a fine dancer," Glorfindel answered. "I've never stepped on anyone's toes, though I'm not able to say the same about anyone I've danced with. I happen to be of a mind that dancing should be reserved."

Mirthanna nearly snorted. "Reserved for _what_?"

Glorfindel shrugged. "A celebration, a holiday, a special night," he winked at her, "A special lady." She took the bait.

Mirthanna giggled, fluttering her eyelashes as a good court lady should. "My lord!" she said, feigning shock, "You tease _awfully_!"

Glorfindel laughed back. He took her hand and kissed it, eyes sparkling. "You wish, lady." He winked at her, thenturned and walked back to Elrond's table.

Mirthanna stood there for a moment, holding the hand he had kissed, and considered calling out to him "Arrogant fool!" but decided against it. She then shook her head, decided she was being silly and resumed fidgeting. She returned to the table to ask her father if she might reture to her rooms. He hastily agreed, telling her to remember her court manners, that she was doing no honor to her family's name, behaving as she was.

"But then," he said, not unkindly, "I suppose you have a lot on your mind," and she blushed. But her mind remained on other things besides her letter as her father kissed her forehead and allowed her to leave the banquet.


	3. Her Luck

**Her Luck**

The next day followed much the same routine the previous day had. They trained hard in the morning to be able to laze about in the afternoon. Glorfindel and Mirthanna escaped that morning's training with relatively minor scrapes, and the cut on Glorfindel's arm from the day before was healing nicely. (Mirthanna had insisted he see the healer again, though Glorfindel insisted he'd received worse scrapes than that in training.)

After a short lunch in the kitchens, they had retreated to a sunny garden, well tended and very green. Stone benches were interspersed throughout, and Mirthanna chose one of them and lay down on her back, her knees up and her hands behind her head. Glorfindel lay in a similar manner on the grass, the sunlight on them warm, but not too hot. They talked for a while, and then Glorfindel mentioned her change in appearance that morning.

The previous day she had merely pulled her hair back, loose and wavy. She had worn a simple tunic and pants and a well worn pair of boots. This morning her hair had been stick straight, and someone-- her ladies, most likely-- had piled it on top of her head. Her attire was almost obscenely elaborate, and her beloved boots were gone, replaced by newer, stiffer ones.

Mirthanna laughed aloud. She knew he hadn't been oblivious. "It was Aenien, and the rest of my ladies," she explained. "They took one look at you and decided that for a training master so fine as yourself, a lady should look her best," she glanced at him, laughing again. He wore a barely hidden look of amusement on his face. Mirthanna looked back upwards towards the clouds. "There wasn't time this morning, but we will most definitely be having a long talk about these clothes tonight, and their affect on my range of motion." Glorfindel lost his control and laughed aloud.

"At least they had good reasons," he replied. MIrthanna giggled and closed her eyes.

She thought that she dozed off for a while. When she next opened her eyes, the sun was shining in her face as it began to set. Shielding her eyes as she shifted to a new position, she commented that, "It's an awfully warm autumn."

Glorfindel's eyes were cosed to shut out the sun, but he nodded. "Indeed," he answered, "I hope it gets cooler in time for Midwinter."

Mirthanna looked doubtful. "I hope so," she said worriedly, "Otherwise we may run short on the festivities. I'd hate to miss all the elanor."

Glorfindel voiced his agreement. The elanor Mirthanna had referenced was part of a playful elvish tradition. At the start of winter, a plant from the north, called mistletoe, would be hung in one's home, in this case, in the halls of Rivendell. After the first snow, the mistletoe was replaced with elanor. Each plant had a short couplet assigned to its name, and young couples brought the other to stand under the plant as they said the poem. Couples had since added a kiss to the tradition, and it was always quite entertaining when one elf didn't realize they were part of a couple at all.

"You know," Glorfindel said, "I remember one Midwinter when the twins..." He went on to tell a hilarious tale of an escpade of a young Elladan and Elrohir, which had taken place at the Ball of the First Snow, but as that was a rather unattractive name, most just referred to it as Midwinter. Every additional snow fall brought an additional celebration in Rivendell, as well as all other elven realms.

"And they were locked out in the--" Glorfindel was finishing, when Mirthanna's head popped up.

"Hmm-- locked out, did you say?" she interrupted thoughtfully. He nodded. "If you don't mind," she began, eyes bright, "I think I will return to my quarters early tonight." She did not wait for an answer. "I have something to see to," she said, getting up. Mirthanna headed for the back door of her quarters and let herself cautiously in.

That night Mirthanna appeared earlier than usual at dinner. She was corset-less, he could tell, by the way she was all smiles to anyone who approached her, her dress a more loose-fitting type, more appropriate for dancing. Glorfindel grinned, wondering what clever plan she had put into action.

"Alright," he whispered in her ear, "What did you do to your ladies?"

Mirthanna looked around them to make sure all was clear. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. She pulled him out of the banquet hall and onto a balcony and collapsed on the bench in a fit of giggles, still holding onto Glorfindel's hand.

"Out with it lady," Glorfindel said with a wicked smile, releasing his hand, "Or I will make something up to tell your parents."

Her laughter subsided. "I locked them out," she said simply.

"You what?"

"Out of my room," she explained, smiling, "It was so simple. I keep a lock with my things, as well as the key. The wonderful thing is, there's only one key, and I've a fair amount of wrong keys--" Glorfindel gave her an odd look-- "I'm a collector!" He laughed.

"I don't want to know."

Anyway, I can come to the banquets through my back door," she revealed, "Tomorrow morning they'll knock to wake me up. I'll give them a key, of course, and some reason why I've locked my door. Anything will do. And then tomorrow night, they won't be able to come into my room, and as long as I'm there first, there's nothing they can do about it. I'll give them a new key every morning, and assurances that _of course_ I'm sure that's the right one. I'll never have to wear that damned corset again!"

Glorfindel had to admit it was a good plan. "But what about your back door?"

"Oh it already has a lock," Mirthanna said, "To keep out intruders! I've got the only key, and I'll just lock the door from now on."

"There's a fair amount of cleverness in that pretty little head," Glorfindel said with a smile, "I haven't given you enough credit, I suppose."

Mirthanna blushed. "Well, I wouldn't have had the idea if not for your story!" Excitement rushed through her again at the thought of not having to wear that painful garment again. "Thank you! I love you!"

Her excitement stopped. Realizing what she'd said, she thanked the darkness for hiding her bright red color and immediately apologized. Love wasn't lightly thrown around in elven culture, and she wasn't sure how a Rivendell elf might respond. They were, after all, the stuffiest of the bunch.

Listening to Mirthanna apologize, Glorfindel smiled. He held up a finger to her mouth, hushing her. "It's alright lady," he said to her gently. "You're very excited, I can tell." He thought for a moment, taking his hand from her face and using it instead to take one of her hands. "Would you like to dance?"

"I'm being asked to dance," she said, a smile in her eyes, "By the very elf who tells me that dancing should be reserved?"

"I've seen you fidget," he retorted, "Would you like to dance or not?"

"Of course!" He took her other hand and led her back into the banquet hall, where dinner had already been cleared to make room for dancing. They were the first on the floor when the music started, and though Glorfindel occasionally traded her off to other elves, all of whom were interested now that they had seen how well she danced, Mirthanna danced mostly with Glorfindel, and they were the last ones on the floor when the music stopped. By this time it was past midnight, and the musicians were all tired and wanted to go to bed.

"I though you r-r-r-reserved dancing, my lord," Mirthanna said, attempting to hold back a yawn. Glorfindel was walking her back to her quarters, having not been able to bring himself to believe her when she'd told him she would _not_ fall asleep on the way.

"I do," he replied honestly, "But there hasn't been an occasion I've deemed worthy of it in so long that I'd forgotten how much I enjoy it."

For the next few weeks Mirthanna went without her corset and danced mainly with Glorfindel at the nightly banquets. Her fancy training outfits were discarded and her beautifully wavy hair returned. The training itself went well and Mirthanna's skills improved. She and Glorfindel grew closer and more friendly, and they competed against each other with an occasionally betting audience. Mirthanna seldom won, so the watchers would bet rather on how close she was able to come to beating her training master.

Things were going well, except when they practiced with knives. Glorfindel wasn't usually so lucky as to escape those lessons without a few cuts and scrapes, but as he repeatedly told Mirthanna, that was what she was being trained to do. However, a month later, things took a turn for the worse. That was when Mirthanna's luck, and her keys, ran out.

After a full day of training, but for their usual afternoon lazing, Mirthanna came to dinner wearing the tightly-laced corset. Glorfindel was easily able to tell the difference-- her waist was several inches smaller and she wasn't breathing when she could help it.

"What happened?" Glorfindel whispered.

"I ran out of keys," she whispered back, her voice a bit hoarse. "So I tried to start over with the first one." She looked as though she would have sighed, had she the air to spare. "They called the locksmith, having figured that I'd had enough freedom. He told them none of my keys would fit, though he could copy them the one around my neck." She winced. "I think they pulled the lacings extra tight for that."

There was no dancing that night. Visiting elves were seated with Elrond as well, and they were talking about orcs and a shadow. Mirthanna had no interest in this whatsoever.

"Lady?" Came a voice from behind her. She turned. A young servant stood there with his hands behind his back. "Lady Mirthanna?"

She nodded her head. "'Tis I."'

"A letter for you, it has just arrived." The elf produced an envelope from behind his back.

"I will take it now," she told him, "If that is alright."

"Very good, my lady," the servant turned to go.

"Thank you..." she murnured absently, running her fingers over the envelope. It was her fourth letter since her arrival in Rivendell. She turned it over to look expectantly at the seal. "Father," she said quietly, "May I please be excused from this company?"

"Of course," he replied. Mirthanna nodded politely to Lord Elrond's visitors.

"My lord," she addressed Glorfindel, "I was wondering if you would care to escort me to the gardens?"

Glorfindel nearly jumped out of his seat at the offer. "It would be my pleasure, Lady Mirthanna," he said, a look of gratitude showing plainly on his face.

They reached the garden where they normally talked during the day. Mirthanna sat primly, perched on the edge of a bench. She held the letter in her hands.

"Who writes these?" Glorfindel inquired.

"A friend," Mirthanna answered off-handedly, "Back in Dol Amroth," she said wistfully.

The wind blew. "I suppose it will get cold for Midwinter after all," Glorfindel remarked. "I'm going to go back inside, to the library, perhaps. Would you like to come?"

"In a little while," she told him, and she looked down at her letter as he walked away. When he was gone, she opened it rather excitedly and read its contents over and over until she was finally content to have it.

When Mirthanna did not appear in the library after a stretch of time, Glorfindel went looking for her. The garden she had been sitting in was raised, and it had a balcony. He found here there, the letter stuck hastily into a skirt pocket, nearly hidden in the folds it made when she stood.

His approach was silent, and he reached out to tap her shoulder, not expecting her to be as surprised as she was. He was caught off guard by Mirthanna's forceful kick, making contact with his ribs. He fell backwards and to the ground, saying nothing but a faint "_ow_."

Only then did Mirthanna seem to realize what she'd done. She hurried to Glorfindel's side.

"Oh I am so sorry!" she cried, "I-I didn't know who was there! I am so sorry! Sometimes I just--"

"For someone so hesitant to strike on the training field, you surely have no trouble hitting me unawares," Glorfindel remarked amiably as he tried to sit up. He winced, and decided that was a bad idea.

"Do you need help?" Mirthanna said, fully red to the tips of her ears, "It's the least I could do, I mean--"

"Just give me a minute," Glorfindel said slowly, shaking his head. He managed to get to his feet, and sat on one of the stone benches with Mirthanna's help. He allowed her to search him for injuries, breathing slowly and carefully.

"I don't _think_ you've broken anything," she announced when she had finished her examination, "But you are going to quite sore for days. Trust me."

Glorfindel smiled. "That was actually quite impressive," he informed her. "Tell me, you have some combat skills, how well trained are you at hand to hand?"

"I know more than enough to protect my honer, if you follow my meaning." Glorfindel nodded. It was common practice to teach all ladies a measure of self-defense, just in case. The types of things Mirthanna referenced were uncommon between elves, but orcs had no honor, and the honor of some mortal men was often questionable. "I learned among the mortals of Dol Amroth, who need to learn these types of things."

"Much more, I'd say," Glorfindel replied, rubbing his ribcage. "How would you like to add that to our training? Just to keep in practice? I'm sure your father wouldn't mind."

"I suppose we could practice in the afternoons, but then," Mirthanna's eyes sparkled with amusement, "If I know anything about hand to hand, and I do, I know that you are not going to want to try your hand against me for at least a week."

Glorfindel smiled and stood up with a little bit of a wince. "We shall see, lady, we shall see."


	4. Her Hand

**Her Hand**

As it turned out, the next morning, Glofindel was first-handedly able to determine that she had been right. He most definitely did not want to "try his hand against her" until the oliphaunt-stepped-on-his-ribs feeling was completely gone. He made his way to the archery lane slowly and painfully. Mirthanna nearly burst out laughing when she saw him.

"Not a word from you," he told her, and picked up his own bow, trying to tense it. Mirthanna bit her lip until it was raw.

"I don't think we'll be having our normal contest today, friends," she told those who gathered eagerly to watch. They grudgingly moved on, disappointed but obeying. To Glorfindel she asked quietly, "You didn't see a healer yet, did you?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "It was–"

"Embarrassing?" Mirthanna asked. "Too bad. You're a grown elf, you will get over it. I don't think you've broken anything, but if anything, I know I'm not a healer. I'm going to take a few shots here, and then we will go to see Lothiril." Mirthanna had come to be as well acquainted with Rivendell's healer-in-chief as Glorfindel was over the course of her own training. "I'm sure the very least she'd be able to do is give you something for the pain."

He wanted to shake his head, but Mirthanna had that set tone of finality in her voice that he'd heard before. The way she was acting now, it was possible to forget Mirthanna's young, _elven _age. She had once told him that she was two thousand eight hundred and forty eight, roughly thirty six in the way of a human. He himself was not much older, though the memories of his previous lifetime would often make him feel it.

Mirthanna took her shots, a relatively easy training compared to those normally under Glorfindel's instruction. He was soon supposed to teach her techniques for hitting moving targets, but obviously not today. Glorfindel had no comments on her shooting, so after a short while Mirthanna and Glorfindel together made their way to see Lothiril.

Mirthanna reached the infirmary first. The healer had been putting away some supplies. She turned, laughing when she saw Mirthanna there.

"What've you done to him this time?" she asked, "The ointment and the bandage are by the door, I'm sure you can take care of it. Such dangerous toys they let you children play with!" she clucked, turning back to her inventory.

Mirthanna shook her head. "It's not that it's–" Glorfindel reached the door just then, having been moving quite slowly because of the pain in his ribs. Lothiril gasped.

"What happened?" she demanded, as she helped Glorfindel to sit.

"He snuck up on me in the gardens and–"

"You kicked him didn't you?" Lothiril finished. She hit Glorfindel in the head. "You never sneak up on a lady! Any other one of them probably would've done the same damage! Now lie down."

Glorfindel obeyed, grimacing slightly. Lothiril pulled back his tunic and shirt to reveal a large, ugly bruise on his right side. She looked vaguely surprised, her eyes wide. "Impressive," she said to Mirthanna, who smiled and bowed her head in thanks. Glorfindel cleared his throat.

"Yes, quite, but if you ladies don't mind–?"

"Does this hurt?" Lothiril questioned, touching the bruise in various places, as Glorfindel's wincing with every touch of the healer's light fingers told her the answer. "Quite an impressive kick, lady. I do believe you've cracked on of his ribs."

Glorfindel suddenly looked rather pale, and Mirthanna very red. "Sorry," she whispered.

Lothiril shook her head. "You should've come to see me yesterday. This is going to hurt. But then, it would've still hurt had you seen me yesterday," she informed her patient. "Here." She handed him a short piece of leather covered in cloth. Mirthanna was wondering what it was for when Glorfindel placed it between his teeth. "To bite," Lothiril explained, "Instead of his lip. When I said this would hurt, I meant it."

Mirthanna walked over and slid her hand into Glorfindel's, and by the end, she could tell that Lothiril had definitely meant it. Aside from utilizing her elven magic, for lack of a better word Mirthanna had yet to think of, she needed to physically help Glorfindel's rib heal in the correct position. This meant setting it in place, shifting it back if it shifted forward, and forward if back, all during the healing process, sped by magic. Just watching made Mirthanna feel sick, and she couldn't imagine how Glorfindel felt. He didn't make a sound, but he appeared pale, and when Lothiril was finished, he had nearly bitten through the cloth in his mouth.

There were crescents in Mirthanna's hand when she finally got it back. Lothiril moved about the room collecting jars and bandages, all of which were applied or wrapped around Glorfindel's healing rib cage. Mirthanna moved out of the way, applying some of the ointment in the jar near the door to her own fresh cuts.

Soon Glorfindel's upper body was wrapped in cloth. "You should probably tell Elrond that I won't be appearing at dinner, and that he shouldn't send a search party," Glorfindel joked hoarsely.

"A fine idea." Lothiril agreed. "Now, you, bed, now!"

Mirthanna delivered Glorfindel's message, and while Elrond was unable to keep his face completely straight, he didn't laugh outright.

Mirthanna had never realized how boring Rivendell could be without her training master. She returned to the infirmary several times during the day to visit him. He was sleeping all but the third time, though by the fourth and fifth she was beginning to believe he was pretending in order to avoid her.

Glorfindel didn't show up at the banquet that night, as he knew he wouldn't. Mirthanna visited him the next morning, as her training appeared to be cancelled. He assured her that he was fine, merely stiff, and, he added with a wink, "Not anxious to leave my darling Lothiril." Mirthanna laughed at his teasing, retorting that he probably didn't want the entirety of Rivendell to know that he had been beaten up by herself.

They talked and played the little elvish games that they had long since outgrown. Lothiril came back in a little while before Mirthanna left to check on Glorfindel's bruise. She changed his bandages and stayed for a while.

"Tight as my corset?" Mirthanna suggested.

"Having never tried wearing your corset," Glorfindel replied, wincing, "I couldn't give you an honest reply, though I would just as soon say tighter."

Mirthanna wrinkled her nose. "I can't imagine that."

Glorfindel told Lothiril that he wished to attend the night's banquet, and she reluctantly agreed. She pulled Mirthanna aside as Glorfindel was getting ready to leave his room.

"Please watch out for him," Lothiril said sternly, "He always wants to leave here before he's quite ready. Says it strengthens his endurance or something along those lines." She sighed. "The stress I am put through! Oh well, I suppose he's been in worse shape that this. I guess it's just his pride that really pains him." She nudged Mirthanna who laughed hesitantly as Glorfindel appeared in the doorway.

"You ladies wouldn't be talking about me?" he asked innocently.

"Only in the nastiest of ways," Mirthanna replied with her most sickly sweet smile.

Glorfindel could not help but laugh. "Come, entertain me on the long journey back to my rooms."

He sat at his usual place at the high table, treated with the utmost mocking respect, playing on the normal, loose conversation. He laughed aloud with his peers, making his own snide comments and jokes at the expense of others.

They started to talk, first about the weather, and then about Orathan's plans of leaving. He told them all he wished to leave before the first snowfall. He told them he wished to leave the next day.

"I don't want to miss the Midwinter in Dol Amroth," he remarked, and Mirthanna sighed, "Besides," he continued, grinning at his son, "There is a wedding to be planned."

That was when they heard a choking sound. Mirthana coughed and her fork clattered to the floor. Glorfindel, seated next to her, patted her gently on the back.

"Alright?" he asked, offering his glass of wine to her. She sipped it slowly and nodded.

"Fine," she said eventually, and hoarsely, "I'll be alright."

Her father looked at her, concerned, and a nod from Mirthanna assured everyone she was fine. "As I was saying–"

"Would you care to walk with me?" Mirthanna asked Glorfindel quietly.

Slightly surprised, Glorfindel accepted, "But I don't think dancing–"

"Neither do I," Mirthanna answered before he could finish. "Just walking."

So they walked.

"I can't believe my father wishes to leave before Midwinter," Mirthanna sighed, "I do miss Dol Amroth, but Midwinter comes yearly, and I would love to see it here in Rivendell. It must be so pretty."

"Yes," Glorfindel agreed, "Midwinter here is beautiful, but it seems warm yet for snow."

"But tomorrow?" Mirthanna looked upset. "How will I know if you're obeying Lothiril?"

Glorfindel laughed. "I'll admit, tomorrow is a bit of a shock."

"I wish I had known earlier," Mirthanna bit her lip, "I would have had more time for this."

"For what?" Mirthanna flicked her eyes upward and Glorfindel's followed. The had walked all the way around the dance hall to the very center. They stood under the mistletoe that had been put up that very morning. Glorfindel just stood there, wondering if this could possibly be what she had been referring to, though the back of his mind was telling him he had been lucky it had been put up today.

"Mistletoe, hope for snow," she whispered, loving the rhyme the way it sounded on her lips. She kissed Glorfindel slowly, then stepped back and smiled, nodding her farewell, sliding her hand from his, though Glorfindel would long think and wonder when exactly he had taken hers. "Until I come back," she said, "And I will." She turned and left.

Glorfindel just stood there for a moment. Later he would describe it to his friend Elrond as "The strangest feeling in this middle earth, and I know strange things."

Elrond would smile and say nothing, keep his friend's confidence, and remember that Glorfindel had been holding Mirthanna's hand the entire time they walked around the banquet hall. People were more blind than they would like to believe.


	5. Her Spiced Apples

**Her Spiced Apples**

A few weeks after Mirthanna's departure from Rivendell, the snow still hadn't fallen. In Elrond's halls the old mistletoe was replaced with fresh plants while Orathan told his family to pack, and they set out from Dol Amroth once again.

Two days later, the clouds burst, and small crystal snowflakes fell from the sky. Orathan sighed, and his family awaited his decision.

"Well," he mused, "What are we waiting for?" he had boomed merrily, "We're closer to Rivendell now!"

Two more days later, Glorfindel visited the stables. He had wanted to make sure that all the horses, especially his own, were warm and well taken care off. Not that he'd had any doubts, of course, but he just wanted to be sure. It took him several minutes to notice the extra horses, all with blankets in the blue and silver colors of Dol Amroth, and several more minutes to notice Mirthanna's brother Lastir, murmuring to the horses in the elvish tongue.

"Greetings, my friend," Glorfindel began, "I see you could not wait for the snow in your homeland to fall." Lastir nodded and looked up, and Glorfindel fought an exasperated sigh. Lastir was quiet, though Mirthanna practically worshiped him. Glorfindel found him a bit off-putting, but he tried again as Lastir groomed his horse.

"I had almost forgotten," Glorfindel remarked, and Lastir glanced up again, "I wanted to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding." Lastir looked puzzled. "Was that not one of the reasons your father wished to return home?"

Now he saw a look of recognition on the younger elf's face. Glorfindel waited expectantly, hoping to hear him speak. "Oh, yes, to _plan _the wedding," Lastir grinned, "Of course. Thank you," he added, seemingly in afterthought.

"I had just come to see to the horses, but, as they're already seen to, I'll be going now." Glorfindel turned, then looked back. "I suppose I'll see you at Midwinter, then?"

Lastir nodded. "Of course." As he watched Glorfindel go, Lastir talked aloud to himself, or even to his horse, if indeed the creature was listening. "Oh sister dear," he murmured, "The things you think I do not know. You'll be troublesome," the horse lifted his head, "No, not you!" He laughed. "The thought of ignorance just numbs my very soul," he said, bemused, "We shall have to see how this one plays out." He turned back to his horse, a mare, and told her, laughingly, "You'd best not put me through this too!"

* * *

Glorfindel had not liked the way Lastir always seemed to make him think. Now, though, he didn't seem to mind. The topic on his mind at the moment was Mirthanna, and she was no bad thing to think about. His mind began to encompass the thought of marriage. Could he marry Mirthanna? He wondered, then shook his head. They had just kissed, he told himself, no need to think so far ahead. 

Filled with thoughts of kissing, marriages and Mirthanna, his mind suddenly put them together in a different way. What if she was already married? He thought, or engaged? What if kissing for her was simply that? Kissing?

He walked into the bustling kitchens, unaware that had been his intention the entire time, only to find the very elf he had been thinking about. Among all the other kitchen workers, more today than on a normal day because of Midwinter, she was the only one he noticed. Her hair was pulled back, but for a few escaping wisps and her sleeves were rolled up as she cut apples.

"Good to see you again," Glorfindel greeted her with a smile. Mirthanna looked up and turned as red as her apples.

"I was just helping them to make spiced apples, dessert for Midwinter tonight." The blush crept darker into her cheeks. Glorfindel took in her flustered appearance, watching as she fidgeted under his obvious gaze, behaving as a young elf who has been caught in the liquor cabinet.

"No corset, I see?" He was still smiling. Mirthanna couldn't tell if it was a real one or not.

"Th-they went out of style back home," she answered, and the blush spread up to her ears.

"About–"

"If you'll excuse me," she hastily began to untie the apron, first wiping her hands on the front as she fought her way through the kitchen crowd and around him. She was going to work on the lacings as she reached the door, but succeeded only in pulling the knot tighter.

"Would you stop fidgeting?" Glorfindel was behind her, removing her hands from the knotting mess that her apron had become. "Now," he said, trapping her as he freed her, "About _Midwinter_," he stressed, "I hope I will see you there."

"Of course," Mirthanna replied, and the blush had no place left to go. "I'll see you there." She grabbed the apron and hung it on the hook by the door before dashing out and retreating to the safety of her quarters.

* * *

Glorfindel couldn't find Mirthanna in the halls later that day. He looked at all the dancing couples but she wasn't among them. Finally, he saw her standing on the balcony, looking like a picture out of an old storybook. Her strapless gown sparkled in the starlight, all white but for the red sash around her waist. She looked heavenward while her hair fell loosely down her back, so that it appeared her ladies had given up on her waist-length curls. 

It took Glorfindel a moment to remember that he was standing on one of Elrond's balconies coming to escort Mirthanna inside to dance, not in a lonesome tower, rescuing the lovely princess so that he might have her hand. Not that Glorfindel would have minded if he was, but the former idea made her much more approachable.

He came to face her, and was startled by what he saw. "I suppose you can't be cold," he remarked. Mirthanna looked perfectly fine from a distance, but Glorfindel could see that her nose was red and the beautiful hazel eyes that he adored were overbright. She had apparently been out here for a while. She sniffled. "You've been crying?" he said, have asking, half asking why, "What's wrong?"

Mirthanna sniffled again, trembling a bit, but her eyes were angry. "You!" she said, her words were practiced, "Here I was thinking– I must be a fool!– here I am thinking I meant something. That kiss? I was thinking that kiss meant something too! It wasn't simply for Midwinter, I have wanted to do that since I laid eyes on you!" That was a lie, she told herself. It had taken a few days.

"What are you talking about? Of course–"

"And the– and–" She lowered her voice. "I heard you! You had some prissy Rivendell girl in your room. Don't you dare say she wasn't in that room, and I know it was the right one! I went the same way as when I helped you back from Lothiril's. I was going to meet you there before Midwinter but I didn't even go _in_ because I heard what was– ugh!– and– what _are_ you doing?" Mirthanna's gaze turned from his eyes– he had been watching her the whole time– to his hand. He reached into a shirt pocket and pulled out a tiny elanor flower.

He used his other hand to pull her closer as he held the flower above them. He placed his hand around her thin form and held her to him. "Elanor," he said softly, kissing her mouth gently, "Hope for more."

"But then–"

"Be quiet Mirthanna," he told her softly, but firmly, unbelieving that this fidgety elf who behaved like an elfling in love was the very same woman whom he had believed to be _married_ that very afternoon. "Of course you mean something to me." He handed her the flower, but didn't let her go. She looked up at him, "They've moved my rooms," he told her with an amused smile, "They wanted the Midwinter guests staying closer to the banquet halls. I've no idea who's staying in my old rooms, but let me assure you, whoever was with that 'prissy Rivendell girl' was not me. Now," he said, putting his other arm around her, "How was that kiss under the mistletoe?"

Eventually, Glorfindel managed to drag Mirthanna off the balcony. When they were dancing, Mirthanna saw Glorfindel in a completely different light. She was his 'special lady,' this was their 'special night.' She gave a contented sigh at just how silly that sounded in hermindand leaned her head on Glorfindel's shoulder during a slow dance. "Elanor," she whispered. "I _do_ hope for more."


	6. Her Training

This is my triumphant return, after a year and half. And quite a return it it, with my most eventful chapter yet.

**Her Training**

The next morning, Glorfindel banished everyone from the training field.

"She needs to practice before you lot start betting on her again!" he shouted, "Go away!"

"And I suppose that was the read reason," Mirthanna questioned him, arching and eyebrow and laughing. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He was kissing her neck in such a delightful manner that she was tempted to lose all focus on her current task, whatever that was supposed to be. "Will you – that tickles – hey! I can't concentrate, you silly elf." Mirthanna was giggling. Glorfindel moved away dejectedly. "We can get on with that later."

"Oh really?" Glorfindel asked.

"Yes, really," she retorted. "Have you forgotten that my father gave us leave to take as much time of the day as we needed to practice hand-to-hand skills. I was thinking that in the afternoon, we can have actual practice, and then after dinner...well, let's just say it wouldn't just be _hand_-to-_hand_."

"I've said it before, I knew there was cleverness in that pretty little head."

"But I think we should keep this to ourselves for some time," Mirthanna admitted quietly. "That's why I've had to be so inventive. I just don't think everyone would understand."

"Understand what?" She eyed him slowly, willing him to think deeper. "I know I'm your training master, but we're both adults, we're free to do as we wish. I doubt I would be accused of taking advantage of you..."

"In an ideal world, yes to all of the above, but please," she asked him quietly, "Do this for me?"

"Alright, you're probably right anyway," he sighed, immediately willing to give into Mirthanna, just because she was who she was.

That afternoon, the disappointed archery spectators found a new sport to occupy their minds. Glorfindel and Mirthanna were sparring hand-to-hand in one of the gardens. There was more betting, mostly on the training master. Glorfindel warned Mirthanna not to kick him in the ribs again. "Or Lothiril will have my head," he grinned.

"I'm sure," she told him, though she turned to everyone behind her and said in a stage whisper, "He's just scared."

They started, each with an arm against the other elf's, resting their bodies in a lunge. Someone designated beforehand called "start," and they did, both of them having quick reflexes. Glorfindel's motions were forceful and tricky, speaking of years fighting tricky adversaries. He feinted and faked different passes, only to try and surprise Mirthanna with another move. She fell for none of it, however, also speaking of years spent fighting someone who tried to trick her. Her moves were all very quick, though well thought out, and she feinted almost never. Though what she did appeared to be light in the speed of her motions, she was really quite powerful.

He caught her left arm in a tricky grasping motion with his own left hand. He moved around her back but she bent down and took his arm, flipping him over herself.

Glorfindel recovered quickly, rolling and jumping up and around, faking a kick that fell short of her knees but knocking her shoulder with his left arm. She fell into the motion, pivoting and kicking back, striking his upper leg and then turning to hit him straight on in the chest with her right hand. He fell back and out of the circle, and she stood over him."

"Yield for mercy," one foot on his feet so he couldn't stand up. In the background, money changed hands.

Glorfindel smiled and reached up his arms. "I yield," he said, impressed.

"I told you she'd be the winner!" challenged a young boy to the leaving crowd. He had stood on a stone bench to witness the entire thing. "I told you all that the lady was going to beat him!"

"Well, I thank you for your faith," said Mirthanna, helping Glorfindel to his feet. "And who exactly are you?"

"My name is Estel," he replied. Having calmed down, his speech was smoother and he seemed slightly older than before. "I have to say, you're a good fighter, lady."

"Well thank you again," she said with a smile, "But you should know, Lord Glorfindel always beats me in archery."

"That's good," the boy said eagerly, "He's going to be my teacher too!"

"He is?" Mirthanna looked up at Glorfindel, who was as puzzled as she was. Remembering when Mirthanna had first arrived, he quickly excused himself to speak with Elrond.

"Bye!" Estel called.

"How old are you?" Mirthanna inquired.

"Thirteen," he replied quickly, jumping down from the stone bench.

"Just thirteen?" Mirthanna asked, doubting the possibility.

"Yes, lady." He pulled back unruly hair to reveal shell-shaped ears. "I'm not old like you all." Suddenly realizing the implications of his last statement, he reddened. "I'm sorry, lady, I didn't mean it like that at all!"

Mirthanna laughed. "It's alright. I suppose, compared to you, I am old, nearly thirty-six. Around twenty-eight hundred, in your reckoning."

Faced with such a large number, Estel could only try to hide his shock. "Oh," he gulped, "I suppose it's not _that_ old."

"I should hope not!" Mirthanna replied, smiling. "Don't worry, Elrond's _much_ older than I am." She looked at Estel straight on. "Say, you're tall for thirteen." Estel came up to Mirthanna's shoulder. For a thirteen year old boy, he was quite tall, as she was average elf height.

"It looks like I'll be passing you soon," Estel laughed. Suddenly he seemed more mature than and average teenage boy.

"Yes, yes it does."

That night Glorfindel and Mirthanna met for the first time of many in front of Mirthanna's rooms. "And how exactly do you plan to keep everyone out?" Glorfindel whispered.

"The key trick."

"But I though–"

"We were gone for quite a few days," Mirthanna whispered back. "And I took the opportunity to add quite a few more keys to my collection.

"There is–"

"Yes, yes, cleverness in my pretty little head," she finished and he nodded, grinning. "_I_ know that. Now could you help me out of this dress. For all of my cleverness, I can't make any sense of the fastenings."

On a less respectable man, Glorfindel's look _could_ have been referred to as a leer. "Gladly."

And so began their secret. When they ran out of keys, Mirthanna was forced to tell her ladies the truth. The palace servants all talked, but none of it reached the nobles, for which Mirthanna was glad. It turned out to be quite useful to have the servants on your side. They were able to make plenty of excuses on your behalf.

Estel turned out to be a good friend to Mirthanna, as well as a valuable asset. While Glorfindel was constantly pulling Mirthanna into rooms, corners and bushes, Mirthanna was much more subtle. Estel knew about their relationship from the beginning, when he had caught Mirthanna and Glorfindel together at the archery field in the early morning, both coming from her quarters (by that time they shared both of their quarters with each other) and looking more than a little friendly. After that he was constantly doing favors for Mirthanna, fetching Glorfindel, interrupting nobles to ask for his accompaniment, all so Mirthanna could see him. He was an exceptional secret keeper, and it just so happened that Mirthanna shared with him her biggest secret yet.

"What's wrong, Anna?" Usually after archery she would be happy, energetic, even. Today Estel had noticed she was looking quite upset. Perhaps it was because of the news she had received last night. Mirthanna's family was going back to Dol Amroth next week. It had been nearly a year since the start of her and Glorfindel's secret love affair, Estel was fourteen now, and he told her it had been exactly ten months, but as an elf, Mirthanna felt that it had been much shorter. For now, she kept quiet. Later though, when Glorfindel was called away by a servant, Mirthanna confided to Estel in the garden where they all sparred.

He received her explanation wide-eyed, then shook his head with conviction. "Anna, that's wrong. You have to tell him."

"Don't you think I know that?" she snapped. She looked at Estel. "I can't," she said more gently. "I just can't."

"The longer you take, the worst it will be."

She sighed. "I'm afraid it's quite bad already."

"At least talk to Lastir," Estel suggested, having become quite familiar with Mirthanna's brother, whom he enjoyed talking to about horses. "He's your brother. I'm sure he can help." Estel had also come to be of the popular belief that Lastir, for all his odd quietness, was very wise.

"Thank you for your worlds of experience," Mirthanna said coldly, "But I think I can decide what's helpful on my own." In many ways, Mirthanna was much less mature than Estel.

"Sorry."

"No," Mirthanna replied tiredly, "I'm sorry. You know I don't mean it."

"Who else knows?" Estel asked.

"Just you," Mirthanna told him, "And Lastir probably knows. They didn't name him 'the listener' for nothing."

And the next night, that was exactly what Lastir told and proved to Mirthanna. She was sitting on the grass, her skirts spread out around her. He came and sat down next to her.

"You should really tell Glorfindel," he advised, "We're leaving soon. This is your last chance."

"I _though_ you knew."

"They call me the listener because I hear unspoken things," Lastir looked at his little sister, "Not to mention servants' talk. I can see it in your eyes, little gift." Lastir had been named after about a hundred years of his parents getting to know him, which was why his name fit him so appropriately.

"I'll tell him." Mirthanna promised.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Swear it?"

"I swear it."

"On your–"

"Would you shut up?" They laughed. The two of them didn't talk often, and weren't exactly as close as they would have liked.

"How exactly did it happen?" Mirthanna looked up to the sky.

"You mean the engagement?"

"Yes."

"We loved each other, true enough, but now that I think about it, not enough to bind. Now we are to be married."

"But– "

"We were caught in bed together, and our families were thrilled at the alliance. Hence, we are to be married."

"I see."

Both siblings looked at the grass.

"Just tell him before we leave for the wedding?" Lastir asked.

"I will."

The last night they were in Rivendell together was a sad one. Estel stood outside, almost as though he were guarding the door. Mirthanna and Glorfindel lay in bed, whispering nonsense about the future.

Neither one had dared mention love to the other, but Glorfindel had planned to tell her the next day, just prior to their goodbye, as though to entice her back to him again. In the middle of a sentence, Estel poked his head in, eyes closed. "The same elf has just passed by for the third time. I think he wants to talk to Glorfindel."

Reluctantly, Glorfindel let go of Mirthanna, who slipped on her robe and left by back door with a sad look back. Glorfindel put on loose trousers and a tunic and opened the door.

"Sorry, sir."

"It's alright, Estel. It's nothing to do with you."

The next morning, the two were sparring as though nothing were wrong. Sharp daggers flashed in the sunlight, and the bets were fairly mixed. Mirthanna and Glorfindel were having a good time of it, with goodbye pushed to the backs of their minds.

Mirthanna's father had come by twice already, only to be convinced to allow the sparring to progress. The third time, he was more firm.

"Mirthanna– " he began sternly.

"In a moment, father," she called, blocking a particularly difficult strike from Glorfindel, who smiled at his pupil.

"That is what you said an hour ago."

"Father..."

"Fine finish your fight, but I will not be blamed when you arrive late to your own wedding." He walked away, unaware of the damage he had just caused.

Mirthanna froze, keeping only enough sense to construct her defense properly. The watchers were forgotten as Glorfindel's gaze turned angry, and they continued to fight.

"Is that your game?"

"I can explain– "

"You couldn't _possibly_." Glorfindel's knifework became quicker, and it as all Mirthanna could do to keep herself from losing. He cut her, disarming one knife, and she tripped. "I loved you, you know," he said quietly, "And you are quite a good actress." For her own safety, she swept her foot behind his legs, tripping him for long enough to stand up and wipe her eyes of both sweat from her forehead and tears that blurred her vision. It did little good. She was soon completely disarmed, lying on her back.

One piece of hair had escaped its pins and hung in front of her shoulders. Glorfindel ran one sharp blade across it, and watched as the hairs slowly fell to the front of her tunic, resting on her chest. "I want you to understand how angry I am right know," he said, tight-lipped, panting with exertion. "And I want you to understand how merciful I'm feeling." He stormed off, making it clear to those around them (who would shortly begin to gossip) that he never cared to see Mirthanna again.

Mirthanna humbly gathered her weaponry on her hands and knees, feeling every bruise and cut that made up her disheveled appearance. The crowd departed, heads shaking, feeling like they should call off the betting on such a personal fight. Lastir appeared in front of her as she finally sat up, massaging an ankle. He shook his head at her as well.

"You lied to me," he said quietly, no other implications involved. "Shall I tell father to call off the wedding?"

"No." She shook her head and saw her newly-shortened strands of hair. She forever wore them proudly after that. Glorfindel's mercy. She shook her head with renewed vigor. "No."

Her brother stared at her. "Have your learned nothing, sister? Have you no consideration–"

"I said no," she said softly, but firmly. "One heart broken is enough to last me a lifetime."


	7. Her Rematch

**Her Rematch**

"Rivendell," she thought to herself, "how my heart has missed this place."

Around seventy five years after she had last left it, Mirthanna had been called back to Rivendell. She took in the sight of the trees and the last Homely House before her as she slowly, wondrously dismounted and passed the reins of her horse to someone else. She was dressed for comfort in simple riding clothes, accompanied by two other elves in Dol Amroth's colors, silver and blue. All three of them were armed; times were dangerous, after all.

Elrond of Imladris had called a council, so they had come. That night, they all feasted at one of Rivendell's nightly banquets. The splendour, Mirthanna knew, would not have diminished despite the dark times. She came dressed as she used to dress so often, in all her frivolous clothes: sleeveless white bodice and elegant skirt, long white gloves and a shawl. Unbeknownst to the crowd, this was the first occasion she had had in a long while to appear so gaily dressed.

Mirthanna found an empty seat, next to a blonde elf, fixing her eyes intently on the back of his head. She wondered in the back of her mind if it couldn't be–

"Are you looking for something?" The elf had turned around. No, he certainly was not Glorfindel. The two had only blond hair in common. This elf had lovely blue eyes, and Mirthanna caught herself staring into them, only to blush properly when he spoke to her.

She sat up. "No, I'm so sorry, I though you were someone–"

"Here to capture the heart of the prince of Mirkwood?" It was an altogether too familiar voice, one flooded with sarcasm. Mirthanna closed her eyes in either defiance or annoyance, and with acceptance, turned to look up at his face.

"Hello, Glorfindel. How have you been?"

"Is the love of one man not enough for you?" Glorfindel went on, taunting as though he knew the answer. "Must you have yet another?"

"It's good to see you too. I've been pretty well, myself."

"Are you here for the council? I do not see your husband." He went on coldly, "Have you left him for someone else?" He gestured towards the prince.

Mirthanna turned to him, and apologized, then stood up to look Glorfindel in the eye. "My husband is dead," she replied steadily. "He was killed by orcs. We were married, of course, but we were never bound," she told him, "I owe it to you, to tell you that, at least."

Propriety stopped Glorfindel's next attack, as Mirthanna dropped his gaze and looked down. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, more gently, "May Mandos bless his soul."

"Indeed."

Glorfindel looked down as well, and his gaze caught on Mirthanna skirts. The bottoms were tattered and frayed. She noticed him looking and ruffled her skirts to try and hide it, but he had already seen. He laughed. "You were so smart, so clever! I would have thought you at least used those _talents_ to marry into wealth!"

Mirthanna's cheeks burned. "So you see now how_ you_ have ruined my life? My people, they looked to me when they were in trouble, just as they should have, and all the inheritance of my husband has gone to helping them, but it wasn't enough! Yes we were wealthy, but the destruction was too much. My husband, he spent too much on frivolity, and because of _you_ my family will not help me to care for my people. My mother and father say I dishonored them, that my scandal in Rivendell caused them shame. My ladies will not forgive me for tricking you, they say, for hurting you. Lastir will never forgive me for lying to him! It is because of you that I have no one but myself, it is all _your_ fault!"

"Why you– how dare you accuse me of such– if you had never lied and tricked in the first place, you would be in no such position!"

"I never intended to lie for so long! I wanted – I came back, didn't I? And this is how you greet me? You loved me!"

"You– "

The prince of Mirkwood, tired of intruding on something not just seemingly personal, stood up and left. Only a moment later, he ran into Aragorn, weaving through the crowd in a curious manner.

"Looking for someone?" he greeted the Ranger.

Aragorn laughed and embraced his friend. "Yes, I am looking for someone, but it isn't you." He turned his head, then turned around. "I'm looking for an old friend, or, rather, two of them," Aragorn replied, "I need to see if..."

"You are impossible!" Mirthanna shouted, causing a small scene in the corner of the room. She and Glorfindel both stormed off in opposite directions, Mirthanna heading towards them.

"No, apparently not," Aragorn murmured under his breath. Mirthanna came over to the two of them and leaned her elbow on Legolas' shoulder.

"I'm very sorry you had to see that," she told him honestly. Then, realization struck her and she said to him, "Wait, I don't think we've been properly introduced." Amused, Legolas shook his head no as Mirthanna took her elbow off his shoulder and greeted him in a more socially acceptable manner. "I'm Mirthanna, and I know that you are a wood elf, from Mirkwood, meaning that you probably won't think it's inappropriate for me to introduce Glorfindel, the elf I was...talking to as my former lover."

Legolas smiled. "I guessed as much. Only love or hatred could provoke such a fearsome quarrel."

Mirthanna stared. "Trust me, it's more than a mere quarrel."

"I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

"It's very nice to meet you." Mirthanna curtseyed. "And this is?" She gestured to Aragorn, who stood a few inches taller than she did. As she did so, something caught her eye, and she turned to face him full on. "Estel?" she asked incredulously.

With a smile, Aragorn nodded, and with an excited yelp, Mirthanna jumped into his arms, embracing her human friend. "It's good to see you! It's been years!"

Legolas smiled. "I see you two are already acquainted."

"Of course!" Mirthanna exclaimed, excited in her recollections. "I've know Estel since he was, well, not much smaller than he is now! But since he was twelve. Bless Eru it's been so many years," she said, pulling Aragorn's arm over her shoulders.

"I used to run errands for her," Aragorn recollected for Legolas with a laugh, "I was always searching for Glorfindel, just because she wanted to see him." Legolas arched an eyebrow, and Aragorn continued, "Oh, don't worry, believe it or not it was _much_ more subtle than what he was always up to." Aragorn suddenly sobered. "Do you plan on apologizing to him, maybe?"

Mirthanna nodded. "My husband's dead, Aragorn, and...I had planned to, I mean, before– well, you heard what he said." Mirthanna looked down.

Aragorn looked away. "Will I see you at the Council tomorrow?"

"Of course," she replied, extracting herself from Aragorn. "Middle Earth's peril is one of the few things that would have put me in the same room as Glorfindel again." She hugged Aragorn with a smile. "Don't let Glorfindel see this; he'd probably call me a whore again."

"It's good to have you back, Anna."

"It's good to see you, and it's good to be back too."

Later that night Mirthanna came to the balcony, called by the sounds of metal clanging and cheers. She looked out at the view and laughed.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, come on Anna," cried Aragorn. "We're to spend all of tomorrow in council, sitting for a whole day, no less! At least let us have our fun."

"Oh, of course, you men have your fun," she called back, "But I meant what were you doing not asking me to join you!"

They laughed and gestured for her to come down and spar in the garden with them. She just giggled and shook her head, turning back to the banquet.

"It's just as well," she heard the all too familiar voice say. "We'd probably have to take mercy on her anyway."

Mirthanna practically flew down the stairs and out the door to the garden. "Estel, your rooms are closest. Go quickly and get me a pair of your pants. Glorfindel and I are sparring," she caught his eye, "Just like old times."

She took off her shawl and her gloves. When Aragorn came back, she stripped off the skirt of her gown and pulled on the pants, which were only slightly to big. Only Glorfindel and the wood elves didn't turn away.

"You know, this never was your area of expertise," Glorfindel smirked.

"You were my teacher," she replied coolly, never looking up as she tied her shawl around her waist as a sort of makeshift belt. "Maybe you should have spent more time teaching me and less time kissing me." Mirthanna looked up and looked around as she finished. "Legolas, give me your knives." He hesitated. "Well?"

Slowly he brought one out of its sheath, a standard issue knife of the Mirkwood Guard. Mirthanna waited, "I need a set, you know." As though giving up, Legolas retrieved the second knife from the sheath. It was different, made of mithril and silver, inlayed with purple stones and a vine carving, as well as an engraving in tengwar script.

The knife was gorgeous, both from a craftsman's point of view and from a warrior's. It was obvious to Mirthanna, who looked worried, that these two knives were not an intended match, but as she felt their matching weight and the way they both fit comfortably in her hands, she approved. She eyed Legolas curiously, a look in her eyes asking for an explanation, the look in his eyes saying, "later, maybe." She spun the knives and set herself in front of Glorfindel.

"These will do."

He stood in front of her and they began. Their pace was slow at first. "I can't remember why I dreaded these lessons," Glrofindel remarked lazily. "They seem quite boring, now that I think about it."

"Maybe it was because you always came out of them bleeding," Mirthanna replied, with more evident concentration than her opponent. There was some laughter.

"You were just clumsy, and I was constantly giving you mercy." Their pace quickened noticeably.

"You were arrogant, you're arrogant now. What about the time I cracked your ribs?"

"It was just one rib, and I was caught off guard." The knives flashed faster now.

"Didn't you tell me a warrior is always on guard?" Faster.

"They're also usually honest, but I think you chose to disregard that one." Trickier.

"Damn it, Glor–"

"Don't start, who–"

They had each been down to one knife, but at the sound of what he threatened to call her, Mirthanna gave an expert flick with her remaining knife. Glorfindel's knife flew out of his hand as Mirthanna's sweeping kick caught him and tripped him down on his back, at her feet.

"Yield for mercy," she said, her fire in her eyes threatening to burn his.

"Never, not for you," Glorfindel replied with equal ferocity.

"Yield!" She demanded, her knife at his throat.

"Not for a spoilt child playing with her husband's toys!"

"I didn't want to prove myself to you like this, not with violence, no. I wanted rational words, I wanted to apologize and I wanted to start again. I came back as a different person, ready to admit my wrongdoings, and then I saw you, and you talked to me like I was trash, and now, now we're hear. Eru, I didn't want to do this..." She ran her blade down to his neck. The other elves rushed forward to stop her. Drawing blood during play matches was strictly not allowed, but Mirthanna held up one finger to them, and they stopped. She pressed the point of the knife into Glorfindel's neck. "_Yield_."

Glorfindel said nothing. She took her knife away without a drop of blood. She had cut Glorfindel's neck, but the cut that remained did not bleed. He reached up to it.

"Do not touch it," she warned, collecting her second dagger and passing the set back to Legolas. "It stings something awful when you do." She picked up her belongings– her skirt and her gloves. "It's a trick," she informed him, "One I learned from the orcs. They like to torture women before stealing their honor." The men looked at her, shocked, as she lifted her chin to show off a scar. "Don't worry, I kept my honor." Mirthanna flipped up Glorfindel's knife with her boot heel (Glorfindel noticed with some sort of emotion– guilt, was it? Or maybe longing– that they were the same beloved boots she had worn seventy five years ago, that she had just been wearing underneath her fancy, but tattered clothes.) "You can have your pants back when you claim them from my quarters," she told Aragorn over her shoulder, winking. Then she threw the knife back to Glorfindel and left.

"Elf wh–"

"Don't even say it," the Mirkwood prince warned, and he left the sparring circle, still clutch his knives in his hands.

"Glorfindel, listen to me," Aragorn said, as the other elves resumed their play, possibly unaware of the depth of the situation around them. "I think you need to let go, just a little bit. I think you need to hear what Anna has to say."

"She– it was _her_– did you hear what she just said to you? What she said just now?" Glorfindel stammered out. "I should forgive that?"

"Anna and I used to have that sort of laugh all the time," Aragorn answered, "Back when you were both _in love_."

"Back when we were in love?"

"Yes, you were in love."


End file.
